Despite the fact that I had been travelling since three in the morning, sleep was not an option in my current position: My knees draped somewhere in the neighborhood of my ears, my bulging backpack in close proximity to my kidneys. From the look and feel of it, the bus taking us from Tenerife airport to the harbour in Los Cristianos, had been designed for pygmies with severe cases of inhibited growth.
The other passengers did not seem to be faring much better, so the relief was palpable throughout the vehicle when it came to an abrupt halt.
The bus driver, who clearly was not in favor of prolonged farewells, promptly disposed of passengers and luggage. He waved in the general direction of the sea, said something incoherently about a ship, and shot off.
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